


Two Kinds of Love

by Yaoiflame9



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Incest, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 20:26:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5305673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yaoiflame9/pseuds/Yaoiflame9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Melkor's and Manwë 's brief moment of intimacy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Kinds of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: characters belong to their rightful owner the story is mine, however. 
> 
> Excuse any mistakes/typos; I'm writing this on a very retarded smartphone. 
> 
> This story's purpose is to relax me a bit before I update my ongoing Angbang story. Plus I'm getting into this Manwë guy.

A person of tall stature, elegant, lordly disposition, clad in dark blue fabrics to complement the scepter and his eyes, and to give contrast to his white hair. But his hair was not white as the consequence of old age--he was ageless--it was native to him, and long, around the young, but serious, dispassionate face. Pale, as if transparent, almost intangible, yet material, elusive, yet constant and strong.

 

Melkor's attention was focused on the light blue ornaments made of thread that made intricate patterns on his brother's high, thick collar. The neck it encased was strong and broad, the throat harbored a discreet Adam's apple. At times, his skin seemed slightly tanned, whereas sometimes, like now, he was distinctly pale. At a first glance delicate, but in fact strong and violent like the winds he commanded. The dark Vala's lips curved into a smile. Manwë was looking at him with sorrow concealed behind his usual, indifferent expression. He loved his brother and understood his anger, but the very concept of malice and evil was still something he could not and dared not decipher. "Tell me, brother, why are you not rejoicing now that I have reformed? Now that you unshackled me? Are you regretting your decision now?" Melkor asked. His voice was raspy, his singsong tone unsettling, both scratching and healing the eardrums of the one who listened.But his brother said nothing, instead choosing to look at the beauties of the boundless blue sky and his flying creatures. "Are you not going to grace me with your holy voice, the soothing, stern voice that blows all the worries away and makes all hideous things in this world sound beautiful? Like my name. Say it.

 

 "Melkor," he said, sadly, "He who rises in might. You have the most splendid name of all, yet you chose to mar it, dishonor it. I hope your rehabilitation has truly borne fruit, so that you can finally be saved from yourself."

 

"The meaning of my name is but a hideous mockery, for my might can only do so much. Aule can create, but not I. You can rule, but I am not allowed. You are cruel, Manwë, the sinless one, the model one, in both words and conduct," Melkor said bitterly. A long silence stretched between them, light as the air, charged with emotion. Melkor put a finger under his brother's chin and turned his head to face him. "Only Mairon comes second to your beauty," the dark one examined his features closely. " His hair used to be red like his master's furnace, but he changed it to white to suit my tastes. Little does he know that I can hardly love him, or anyone, and especially you. I could never love you, in any way. The usurper. The person who imprisons his own brother. Next time you should sweep me from my feet and make me legless and chain me like an animal," he hissed.

 

Manwë' s features remained unchanged. "If that is your wish, then it shall be as you say. Although I shall do it against my own will. But for your sake I hope you stay here in Valinor and live in peace like the rest of us.

 

" "Very well then," Melkor said. "But first I have to see for myself how holy our leader actually is. Manwë...King of Arda, Lord of Wind, Air, Birds..." he approached him close enough that their noses were touching. Melkor's fingertips roughly going over Manwë's lips before forcefully prying his mouth open, revealing rows of neat white teeth. " He who seldom parts from Varda, the wench, yet barely touches her...So ethereal and holy and unreal..."

 

Manwë breathed out slowly, still, allowing his brother to do as he pleased, for such was his brotherly love. " To make you unfaithful and a bad example," the dark Vala said, ceremoniously removing the feathers from his hair, unbraiding the loosely tied hair, as the feathers fell, one by one, on the floor. Manwë's stoic figure stood unmoving and proud, as Melkor's lips made trails on his own, examining, absorbing. Then the King of Arda closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, returning the kisses which were becoming deeper and deeper, never in his life feeling this much love toward anyone or anything. His eyes were burning behind his lids, tears drying before even forming, lamenting the nature of his love for he could not return it in a way Melkor wanted him to. It would be futile, anyway, for Melkor's hatred toward him was boundless. It felt like an endless dance, as the trees took their turns in shining, the first kind of dusk, in the castle upon Taniquetil. Melkor's hair was rough, long, and black, tangled between his fingers.

 

"So be it, brother," he breathed out in all his sorrow and joy, stoic and weak at the same time, joining his body with his brother's. Many years from then, legless was Melkor, chained with the collar made out of his own crown, as Manwe stood looming over him, calm and composed, bright as the sun and cold as the coldest of winter's winds. "As you wished, Melkor, I delivered," he said sadly in the Black Speech Melkor had taught him long ago. For such was his love. Selfless and cruel.  


End file.
